The Whys and Wherefores of Harassment
by outtabreath
Summary: Tony. Pepper. Banter. Iron Man 2 spoilers.


**Iron Man 2 spoilers ahead – don't read if you don't want to know.**

Thanks to my Incredible Iron Beta, miss steph, and the Wonderful Women of Writers Anonymous.

Obviously, my muse is bat-shit crazy about Robert Downey, Jr. as Tony Stark because she wouldn't let me write Star Trek fiction until I got this out.

Of course I don't own Iron Man or any of the characters of Iron Man. OH GOD! If only I owned Tony Stark….

**~*~**_**The Whys and Wherefores of Harassment**_** by outtabreath~*~**

"Potts, I've decided that I'm going to ask Natasha out," he said by way of greeting as he slammed his way, unannounced and uninvited, into her office.

"No. You're not," she replied evenly, not even bothering to look up from her spreadsheet.

"Why not?" he huffed.

"Because, _Mr. Stark_, I do not want to deal with a sexual harassment lawsuit on top of everything else you've dropped in my lap." She finally met his eyes squarely to underscore her point. "And please do not just barge past my assistant."

"She didn't want to let me in."

"I know."

He clutched at his chest in a way that shouldn't have affected her the way it did. "Did you order her to not let me in?"

"Order is such an ugly way of putting it, Tony - suggested with great fervor is much nicer."

"You don't want to see me? You don't _miss_ me?" he asked dramatically.

She noticed his eyes dipping to where her legs stretched out beneath her antique table of a desk and she thought, "Of course I do."

"I'm too busy to play with you today, Tony," she said.

"But playing is what I do best."

She sighed and tapped her fingers against her desk. "Do you want to look over this spreadsheet for me?"

"You're no fun anymore, Miss Potts."

"I am the CEO of a major corporation – _your _corporation, Tony – which doesn't leave me any time to be fun – or have fun – or even _talk _about fun."

He grabbed up her Iron Man stress ball, his idea of an "I'm sorry I just utterly screwed up your life so I'm giving you this cheap squishy ball and not the Roger Vivier shoes you really deserve" present, and dropped into the chair opposite of her desk with a martyred sigh. "I miss the old Pepper."

"So do I," she said, feeling momentarily sorry for herself.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, a plaintive note in his voice that she didn't buy for a second.

"I don't have enough energy to be mad at you, Tony."

He had the grace to look abashed as he fiddled with the stress ball. "Hey, why are there holes in this?"

"Design flaw."

"They look like pencil holes."

"They're not pencil holes," she said, completely truthfully; they were holes formed by a pen wielded in anger.

He raised his eyebrows and tossed the ball back onto her desk; it landed in the middle of her spreadsheet.

"I didn't just do it because I wanted more superhero playtime, you know," he announced.

"Yes, you did," she disagreed.

"No, Pepper, it's just that there's no one else on the planet that I'd entrust my company, my _dad's_ company, to - _no one else_."

She caught his guileless gaze and held it, her expression neutral but her heart speeding. He steepled his fingers under his chin and gave her a half-smile, the one he gave when he really meant what he said. She found that she had nothing to say. He sighed and broke the eye contact to stare off into the middle distance; she blinked and returned her attention to her numbers, leaving the ball where it was.

Several minutes later he spoke again. "I could fire her, _then_ ask her out." He said it like he had figured out cold fusion, discovered the answer to the mysteries of Stonehenge.

"Sure, Tony. That could work," she responded wryly. "Wrongful termination _and_ sexual harassment is so much easier to fight than just sexual harassment."

"I shouldn't have hired her," he said finally.

"Too late now," she replied cheerfully.

"I could make her quit," he said. "Make her life so miserable that she cries and quits and _then_ I could ask her out."

"That's thinking outside of the box."

"I used to be able to do it, you know," he continued. "Before my _last_ assistant I went through dozens a year."

"So I've heard."

"I haven't forgotten how to do it."

She raised her eyebrows.

"I liked you too much to make you quit," he said quickly, pointing at her in case it wasn't clear who the "you" in that sentence was.

She squelched the urge to point out that maybe he hadn't liked her _enough_ because that would be petty and unprofessional and _stupid_.

"So you're going to make your new assistant hate you so much that she quits _then_ you're going to try to date her?"

He nodded, then frowned. "You make it sound like a bad idea."

"Oh, I think it's one of your better ones," she said insincerely.

He frowned stormily at her. "Well, what would you suggest?"

She sighed, her shoulders dropping, "Find someone else. Someone that doesn't work for you or that you haven't already…_dated_. Literally thousands of women reach the age of eighteen a year in this county alone."

He leaned forward and stared at her. "So you're saying that I shouldn't date Natasha but should find someone who doesn't work _for_ me and hasn't already sampled my goods."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" she said, missing the emphasis on certain words and focusing on the wrong ones.

"Yes. I had Natasha send you a memo."

"Must still be in my inbox," she said, glancing at her screen for the first time in several minutes. She looked away quickly; the exponential rate at which it was filling was just this side of horrifying.

"By the way, Pepper - I wish to make it very clear that my goods are _very_ good," he said, smirking and leaning back, shifting his legs apart and resting his hands on the tops of his thighs.

She snapped her eyes to his face and sniffed derisively.

"You doubt me?"

"Never, Tony," she said and meant it.

He stared at her evenly and in a way that made her skin too hot. She busied herself with Very Important Executive Duties involving looking down and fumbling with pens and numbers and paper.

"You're my boss now," he said as if it was just occurring to him.

"Technically that is correct," she acknowledged, looking up at him through lowered eyelashes in the vain hope that it would temper the power of his gaze.

"Wow. Maybe I should be afraid."

She snapped her head up. "Why?"

"Because I mistreated you and worked you too hard and harassed you and now you're going to be able to get your revenge."

"You didn't mistreat me."

"But I worked you too hard."

"Sometimes," she said, leaning forward on her elbows.

"And I harassed you."

"Daily."

"You didn't sue me."

"Because I knew you didn't mean it."

He leaned back, his eyebrows shooting to his forehead, but he didn't disagree.

She tightened her grip on the pen and said, "You were a good boss, Tony. You _are_ a good boss – you just need to remember that you _are _a boss."

"You don't forget that you're a boss, do you?"

"It's kind of hard to," she said. She glanced at her monitor and wondered if it was possible for an email inbox to actually explode.

"Is it still sexual harassment if the other person wants it?" he asked, diverting her attention from the computer.

"Yes. They can sue at any time."

"How do you know so much about this stuff?"

"Because I actually _went_ to the annual trainings on Hostile Work Environments. The _mandatory_ annual trainings on Hostile Work Environments," she said pointedly.

"I was busy that day," he said quickly, "I was in D.C. I had Iron Man duties. Those were real?"

"Yes, Tony. They were real."

"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "I thought it was a joke by the guys in R&D."

"Not a joke."

"So it really is a thing."

"It really is a thing."

"A _real_ thing."

"It's the _law_," she said swiftly, because Tony could – and would – keep this up for hours if she'd let him. "And it's there – like all laws – to protect the powerless."

"I'm not powerless."

"The law's not there to protect _you_."

"That's not fair. I need protection, too, you know."

"From yourself," she said. "There aren't any laws about that."

"You'd think Congress would find _that_ important," he snorted. "Maybe they could lay off my suit and legislate some protections for dashing, strikingly good-looking do-gooders like me."

"Send a memo," she suggested.

"I will." He sat up straight and looked at her, "Potts, take a memo."

She raised her eyebrows at him even as her hand, impulsive and well-trained, shifted a pen into position.

"Oh, yeah," Tony continued, sinking back into the chair and oblivious as always, "You don't work _for_ me anymore. You're my boss now. You don't take memos or organize my life."

"No, I don't," she said, smiling gently and laying the pen on the desk – right next to the stress ball. "You have someone else to do that now." And the thought made her more than a little sad.

He nodded. "You're doing much more important work."

"I've always done important work, Tony."

"Getting me coffee wasn't important."

"I did a hell of a lot more than get you coffee," she pointed out testily.

"I know that, Potts," he said quickly. "You ran my life – and much better than I ever could've."

"I preferred to look at it as creating an environment in which your creativity and genius could flourish."

"Which is exactly what you did – with a Blackberry in one hand, a whip in the other, and those legs of yours perched on…those heels." He purred the last two words, then took a deep breath and looked her up and down in that way of his; she shifted in her chair and damned the decorator who'd thought her desk should be open and airy with no place to hide.

"Mr. Stark," she began warningly.

"I _am_ a genius you know," he said, interrupting her as he stood and stretched indecently, wiping all other thoughts out of her head. "I have the tests to prove it and everything. Of course, the tests also say I'm a textbook narcissist, so they may be inaccurate."

"Oh I think the tests are pretty accurate," she said, her mouth suddenly dry.

"You're a mean boss," he said, idly scratching at his belly. "Did you learn that from your last employer?"

She kept her eyes on his face and shook her head, "It's all God-given talent."

He grinned at her. "I'm a big fan of God-given talents, Pepper."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on her desk – his eyes – and other facial parts – level with hers. "So, let's summarize, shall we Miss Potts, the conclusions of this very important meeting: I should not date my _new_ assistant, I should not make her quit, I should date a woman who doesn't work for me and whom I've never dated before, you're my boss now, and I was not a total ass when you worked for me."

She fought the urge to lean back, which would only delight him, and said, "That's a very thorough assessment of the situation."

His eyes dropped to her lips. "Thank you. I appreciate you taking time out of your busy day to clarify that with me."

"I'm happy to meet with you anytime, Tony." He smirked, so she added, "As long as you make an appointment first."

He blew out a breath and stood; she swayed forward slightly, cursing herself the whole way.

"Will that be all, Miss Potts?"

"That will be all, Mr. Stark," she said.

He turned on his heel and marched across the room, pausing at the door and turning towards her.

"Just for the record," he began.

She shook her head, more affectionately than she should, "Just for the record what?"

"I would _never_ sue you for sexual harassment, Miss Potts." He tipped his head in an utterly endearing way. "Keep that in mind." Then he strode out of her office.

And she thought, "Oh. _Oh_."


End file.
